


And Wash The Chaos From My Skin

by rockliff



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-01
Updated: 2012-03-01
Packaged: 2017-12-12 10:06:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockliff/pseuds/rockliff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You say my sister’s fuckin’ name one more time while you’re jerking me off and I’ll rip this fucking thing off, Gallagher,” Or, a fic with shower sex in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Wash The Chaos From My Skin

It’s no secret that Mickey Milkovich hates to bathe. Or even shower, for that matter. He hates water, how it feels on his skin, the way it leaves him shivering cold, especially since their fucking heat has been on the god damn fritz for the last year and a half. He keeps his junk clean, washes his hands sometimes, but generally his filthiness needs to become a problem before he attempts to rectify it.

On this particular night, the night he decides to shower after a week and a half of avoiding it, he’s pretty sure he’s alone. The house is empty. Dad’s god-knows-where, his brothers haven’t been around since Tuesday, and Mandy’s out with Ian. Sweet Ian Gallagher with his sad, puppy-dog eyes and shock of red hair - on top and below - covered in freckles, unexpectedly muscular… Whatever. She’s out with  _him_  and not around to make fun of Mickey for  _finally getting rid of that fucking stench_.

Mickey hates mirrors almost as much as he hates water, but once he’s stripped naked he takes a moment to look at himself. His face is filthy, visible streaks that end abruptly where his t-shirt normally begins; they start again mid-bicep at each arm, and he’s got some bruises on his hips that have begun to fade into a brownish blue. Ian crosses his mind again. He shakes his head, runs a tattooed hand through his greasy hair, and starts the shower.

There’s only a sliver of soap left and some of Mandy’s fruity fucking shampoo and conditioner, but he’s not thinking too much about it as he steps under the hot stream. It scalds his skin but he’s sort of into it, as much as he can for hating the water itself; the steam relaxes him as he inhales it and presses his forehead to the tile wall.

If his ears weren’t under the water, he’d have heard Mandy’s shrill giggle when she and Ian came in the front door.

*

She’s drunk and stoned and stumbling, but Ian isn’t quite so smashed. He acts as her walking stick, holding her upright as she clings to him and babbles on about how “ _cute_ ” Lip is and “ _Please don’t tell me he’s gay too, I couldn’t handle crushing on another gay Gallagher. Gaaayllagher_.” And she laughs again.

She wants to play with the Xbox but Ian can see that becoming a serious issue from a mile away, so instead he hides the controllers and lays her on the couch. Once she’s horizontal, it seems like the giggles have drained out of her and she’s left with the sloppy drunkenness that normally accompanies someone of her size drinking as much as she has. Ian covers Mandy in the blanket on the back of the couch and fetches her a large plastic bowl from somewhere in the depths of the Milkoviches’ horrendous kitchen, and he places it on the floor near her head. 

He hasn’t heard the water running until he’s in Mickey’s bedroom.

*

The only working toilet in this shithole that the Milkoviches call home is the en-suite from Mickey’s room, an eight-by-ten hole in the wall with plumbing, and the inconvenient placement has caused a couple of awkward situations - most involving Mickey’s earlier years of self-discovery and his later ones of… well, Ian-discovery, too.

And he’s doing a pretty good job of not thinking about Ian while he uses that tiny sliver of soap to wash himself, lathering his chest and under his arms and down over his balls. That’s when he loses it, remembering Ian on his knees in the store room at the Kash and Grab, flicking his tongue against the sensitive skin and he has to stop himself before this goes too far. He can’t use up all the hot water jerking off or else no one will be able to bathe for another week. Not that Mickey would care.

But he’s already half hard and he groans with frustration, lathering his hands so he can wash his ass - and that’s when he knows he isn’t alone in the bathroom. Whomever has entered is still wearing their shoes and they sound heavy, like boots; it could be anyone. He whips the shower curtain back enough to stick his head out and there’s Ian Gallagher taking a piss in his toilet.

“Gallagher?” He’s not exactly surprised to find Ian in his house, but not right now, not in his bathroom - Ian turns his head and waves with the hand not holding his cock. 

“Hey, sorry, really had to go. Couldn’t wait.” He sounds casual. It sort of freaks Mickey out. He has a momentary thought of this becoming the norm and he has to shut the curtain again.

“Finish your piss and get the fuck out, Gallagher.”

“Whatever.”

Ian must be a little drunker than originally thought, because he flushes without thinking; he doesn’t realize he’s done something wrong until Mickey shrieks from the other side of the curtain and practically bursts out of the back end of the tub.

“The fuck, Ian?!” He’s pressed against the tile and the curtain’s blown open enough for Ian to see Mickey’s body, naked and clean, a bit soapy, and soaked. And his dick is still half hard.

Ian stumbles back and covers his face. “Dude, I’m so sorry-” and as he tucks himself back into his boxers, he looks over and sees that Mickey hasn’t looked away. He’s still staring at Ian from the shower, and he’s still getting hard, and when their eyes meet it’s like the first time all over again. 

Mickey opens the curtain more and reaches out while Ian stumbles out of his jeans, Mickey’s wet hands tugging Ian’s shirt off his body and throwing it in the sink. Ian nearly trips into the tub when his underwear gets tangled around his ankles and boots, but it only lasts a second; then he’s in the tub with Mickey, under the stream of hot-again water, having his dick stroked hard and fast and tight like Mickey loves to do. He thrusts into the tight circle of his fist and grips Mickey’s dick in response, giving it the same treatment. 

Mickey gasps and groans and Ian rasps, “Shh, gotta be quiet, Mandy’s out there-“

“You say my sister’s fuckin’ name one more time while you’re jerking me off and I’ll rip this fucking thing off, Gallagher,” Mickey hisses, but it doesn’t hold much weight as his knees buckle and his voice becomes more like a faint whisper than anything intimidating. He tips his head back and Ian moans, leaning in to bite at Mickey’s neck and Mickey bucks forward.

Ian licks up to Mickey’s ear and murmurs, “I have a condom. And lube.”

“Where, in your ass?” Mickey sounds almost serious and Ian tries not to grin.

“Pants pocket. If you can handle not touching me for that long.”

“Fuck off,” Mickey scoffs, but there’s a hint of a laugh in his words. He lets go of Ian’s cock and takes in the view of the perfect, pale ass in front of him as Ian leans out of the shower to grab the two packets from his jeans.

When he returns with them, he leans in and Mickey ducks out of the way to avoid Ian’s lips. They land on Mickey’s chin and Ian chuckles, biting softly, then reaching around to give Mickey’s ass a wet slap. 

Without words they work out positioning - Mickey’s bent over with his hands on the tile while Ian slicks up his fingers, stretches him just enough, and slips on the condom - but the silence doesn’t last as Ian rubs the head of his dick at Mickey’s entrance.

Mickey’s a proud guy. He doesn’t beg, but he always gets what he wants. And what he wants right now is Ian’s dick in his ass. He makes a low noise in his throat, arching back at him, and he growls, “Fuck me or I’ll finish myself off, I swear to God…”

Ian pushes in then, moaning as he slides quickly into the tight heat of Mickey’s body. He runs both of his hands over Mickey’s back and shoulders, slowly thrusting, working into the familiar rhythm that they both get off on - it’s deep, fast, and as they both get used to it, Ian thrusts harder. 

Mickey feels Ian’s lips again, trailing over his back and his shoulders - most times he’ll shove him away but tonight, inexplicably, he likes this. He likes the heat of the water and the fullness of Ian inside of him and the feeling of lips and teeth dragging over his skin and the bones of his shoulder blades. He feels him suck at his left shoulder muscle. There’s going to be a bruise. If anyone asks about it he’ll tell them Karen Jackson finally opened her legs for him. Whatever.

He arches his back a little more, moaning quietly with every hard thrust into him and he has to choke back something louder as Ian’s hand moves from his hip to his cock, stroking him swiftly, and there’s Ian’s soft voice in his ear-

“Come on, Mick,” his breathing stutters, a sign he’s close, “cum for me, cum on the wall, come on…”

His face feels hotter than before as his heart rate picks up, losing himself somewhere between Ian’s dick and hand and his fucking voice and he’s panting, tipping his head back to lean against Ian’s shoulder, his mouth open.

“I’m gonna cum,” Mickey whines, biting his lip, feeling his balls tighten and the wave of his orgasm hits hard, blinding him, weakening his limbs and his ability to function mentally. 

He doesn’t realize he’s turned his head to kiss Ian on the mouth until Ian’s cumming hard inside the condom in Mickey’s ass.

*

They share a bed that night, but they don’t speak. They’re back into their natural places, physical but detached, a warm body to lay with under the blankets after a mind-blowing orgasm. Mandy sleeps through the night. Ian passes out with his face buried in Mickey’s armpit because “ _it actually smells okay for once_ ” - but Mickey, he doesn’t sleep. Because Mickey Milkovich doesn’t kiss. He doesn’t kiss dudes. He doesn’t kiss dudes he gets fucked by. Because a kiss is a promise he knows he can’t keep.

He doesn’t know what Ian expects in the morning, but shit isn’t going to change. They aren’t going to be boyfriends. And he’s definitely not going to start fucking showering every other day to impress him. Because it’s no secret that Mickey Milkovich hates bathing, showering, water, and commitment. 


End file.
